Improper Disclosure
by AJ Elfhawk
Summary: In Harry's final and failed lesson at Occlumency, a confused revelation leads to more issues than he or Severus thought possible. Then Draco gets involved. WARNING Adult issues: slash/rape - sort of.
1. Chapter 1

**IMPROPER DISCLOSURE **

**AJ Elfhawk**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Harry felt the life drain out of him as he collapsed back against the hard-framed chair. He closed his eyes as though this might protect him. 'You're just like your father,' Snape sneered at him, losing patience. 'Weak.'

'I'm not weak!' Harry shouted, frustrated that the other man chose to see nothing but his failings.

'Then _prove_ it!' Severus grabbed the collar tight around Harry's neck, and held it high and taught as though he sort to hang him with it, having dragged him from the chair.

Harry pushed the hand off his clothes, gaining his balance once more as he turned, this time prepared.

'_Protego_!' Harry threw the word like it was a grenade, and his anger lent strength to the shielding spell.

The moment became suspended in time, yet Harry stood watching snatches of Snape's life unfold in front of him. As he saw his dad for the first time in true life, he watched with an intense fascination. But seeing his actions, Harry felt a deep humiliation drown through him in the wake of the memory. As the laughter of the other children that had been following his dad receded, Harry recalled his own hatred and humiliation towards Dudley and Draco far too sharply to overlook what he had witnessed of his father.

With a sensation Harry imagined similar to being washed up on a beach, he drew a shallow breath as the memories flowed away from him, leaving instead an impression of feelings. Harry opened his eyes once more in the dungeon to see Severus, no longer off guard, striding towards him with an expression of menace. Normally this would have been a clear indication for a hasty exit, but Harry found himself unable to move. The realisation had already come.

'We're the same,' Harry murmured, holding his ground until the other man had grabbed him for a second time.

'Not even close.'

'I'm sorry, Professor. I never realised my dad was–'

'There are many things you have no hope of realising, Potter!' Snape looked as though he was thinking of something a lot more malicious to say, but he seemed to recollect himself. 'Starting with the skill of Occlumency. These lessons are at an end. Perhaps your time would be better employed assaulting your textbooks rather than teachers.'

Snape turned sharply towards the back bench of his lab. It was a clear enough signal, but Harry couldn't shake off the nagging feeling in his head that something wasn't right. Through most of the memories he had seen, there had been an overriding emotion. Harry knew he wasn't imagining it, he recognised what he'd felt.

Despite the taunting and general ill-treatment his dad had displayed, Harry had had the distinct impression that Snape had been… in love.

Suddenly, answers began aligning to his questions. Why Dumbledore trusted Snape so implicitly, why his dad might have ridiculed him, why the professor was alone... Snape had been in love with his dad! No wonder Snape was mortified at what Harry had seen.

Was that why he hated him so much, because he looked like his father?

Harry watched him carefully from behind, unsure how best to raise the subject.

'Professor, I'm not going to tell anyone about this,' Harry ventured, unwilling to leave with the situation unresolved. Snape paused in the pretend tidying of equipment.

'It's not as though I expected you would have enough spine to reveal the truth about your father,' he replied viciously.

'But my father wasn't…' Harry stopped, suddenly realising that what he'd seen wasn't enough indication that things hadn't developed between Snape and his dad later on. Harry crossed the distance between them, but came to stand a pace away, afraid now to make contact with the potions master. He had an image of his dad being where he was now, of them... together.

'What about my mother?' Harry's voice was suddenly quiet, shocked at the idea forming in his mind. Severus gazed steadily at him without making any indication he had even heard what Harry said. His dark eyes were bleak and their expression unreadable, nothing new.

'Your mother,' Snape repeated finally and broke their eye contact, turning his head aside as if listening to something far off. Harry felt like he had been released from some spell.

'Well? Did she know?' He forgot to be respectful, or calm, instead barking the questions. 'Did she realise that my dad –'

'You stupid boy, of course she did,' Severus replied sharply, thinking Harry meant the bullying. He watched the boy's eyes go wide and move from side to side in rapid thought; he looked like he was about to choke. 'Not that this is any business of yours.'

'How can it not be my business?' Harry shouted, overwhelmed. 'It's a wonder I was even born!'

Snape paused, perplexed. 'You think I would have killed James Potter?'

Harry had meant about the gay thing getting between his parents, but Snape's suggestion wasn't absurd given his history. 'For being with my mum? Yeah. I wouldn't have put it past you. I'm surprised you didn't kill _her_ seeing as you couldn't get what you wanted…'

The silence that sprung into existence between them was almost corporeal. Harry thought Snape was going to hit him.

'How dare you.' Severus couldn't think what to say. How could the boy have understood all this from the briefest and most inadvertent attempt at Legilimency he had ever witnessed? How could he begin to explain himself to Lily's son?

'Is this why you hate me? Because I look like him?' Harry found himself asking the question without entirely intending to.

'Potter, I do not hate _any_ student. In truth I am highly disappointed. It is again typical that like your father you would think yourself victimised, when in truth your efforts and abilities are shoddy and barely adequate at best, more than warranting a stern –'

'My work isn't shoddy! I just don't understand! You seem to think everyone should have a born knowledge of potion making –'

'Your mother did.'

'Well, that's just something else she isn't here to teach me,' muttered Harry, treasuring the information away for later consideration. 'And don't pretend you don't hate me, because I know you do, no matter what you blame it on.'

'Come here.'

'What?' Harry took a step in the opposite direction out of instinct.

'I want to look at you, now come here,' said Snape, moving towards him.

In horror, Harry abruptly realised that Snape might just have jumped to conclusions about his sexuality. 'Look, this sort of thing doesn't just… run in the family!' Harry back-stepped even quicker.

'Yes it does, Potter. Your eyes –'

'WHAT? Professor –'

Just as Harry found he had run out of room, Snape lunged, grabbing the front panels of his robes for the third time that night. As he leant back against the lab bench, Harry briefly thought on how physical this lesson was turning out to be. Looking away from the other man staring hard into his eyes, Harry glimpsed the archway out of the dungeon and decided it would be a good point to make himself scarce. Severus shook him once with a ferocious jerk and he turned his head back just as Snape reached up suddenly, snatching Harry's glasses before throwing them coldly at the floor.

Harry heard his long-suffering spectacles land with an ominous crack and pulled to the side to move after them but Snape used his own body to hold him in place.

'Why did you –'

'Be quiet.'

The older man's proximity lent him the appearance of being even taller and more intimidating than usual. As Severus lent forwards, Harry grabbed his shoulders to push him back.

'Professor, stop!'

'Without those obnoxious glasses, your eyes –'

'Just stop it! I'm not _James_!'

Severus turned his head slightly, his eyes refocusing on Harry as a whole. The boy was breathing unsteadily; sweat had darkened the edges of his hair line.

Harry used Snape's surprise to push past him as he ran to where he thought the glasses had landed, crouching down to see them in the darkness of the room as they lay forlornly on the hard tile. One of the lenses had cracked in the frame, and the other had come out altogether. As he stood and turned, the potions master was mostly a blur the other side of the room. Harry could not tell his expression, and didn't care to find out.

'Wait, let me explain –'

'I really, _really_ don't want to know.' Harry hurried to the door.

'Potter!' Snape shouted in a voice very uncharacteristic of himself. The urgency of the tone made Harry pause, looking back towards the hazy figure in the room.

'Look, its fine, whatever. If you and my dad were…' Harry couldn't quite bring himself to complete the thought. 'Well. That's the past, and… it's none of my business.'

He fled as fast as he could, moving along the wall as he climbed the stairs two at a time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

The chill of the night rippled over Harry's skin as his sweat dried. The darkness and the quiet of the castle smothered him in his own thoughts. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't even see straight thanks to Snape.

Harry quickly held out the remnants of his glasses, muttering the usual '_Oculus Reparo_' as he tapped them with his wand. The small metal frame shifted in his palm as it realigned and the glass slotted back into place. He felt over the smoothed surface where the cracks had been and wiping the glass on his sleeve, restored his sight.

As he approached the grand staircase, flickers of candle light still trembled up the walls overhead. Mrs Norris was sitting on the second stair, her head turning slowly as she watched him ascend. Harry looked at her as he began a slow climb until he'd turned another corner up the stairs. She was probably waiting for it to pass curfew. Two Ravenclaws were returning to their common room above him, yet on the third floor Harry found himself hovering indecisively.

Ron and Hermione would still be waiting up. Plus he was certain his jumper had taken on a rather stretched look with all the manhandling of the past however many hours, he probably stank of sweat, and god knows what a mess his hair would be. He considered waiting somewhere until they'd gone to bed, at least he wouldn't look such a wreck in the morning. Or should he pretend nothing unusual had happened? This seemed tempting, but he had a feeling Hermione would see right through him, whatever he said. Perhaps this was an honesty-best-policy situation.

'Hey guys, guess what? Snape's gay. And it gets better, so was my dad! Not to mention, he can't keep his hands off me!' Harry rolled his eyes to himself. Maybe not. Finally he found his feet and kept moving.

They were sitting on the floor in front of the fire when he stepped through.

'Hey mate! You're back...'

'Yea...' A few moments passed, Harry knew he should be launching into details of the crappyness of Snape, or the lesson or something, but he just couldn't think where to start.

'What the hell happened to you? You look like you got mugged!' Harry sighed. Obviously he looked worse than he'd realised.

'Well? Come on Harry, how did it go?' Hermione interjected tactfully. Suddenly he wasn't certain he could talk about this so casually after all. 'Not great?' she deduced.

'God, he's such a...' Harry couldn't find a good retort anymore. For all the things Snape was, Harry suddenly understood. It took all the enjoyment out of ridiculing him. He sighed heavily as Ron suggested a variety of descriptive names and nodded half-heartedly.

'I can't believe I really have to go through potions to do what I want. That is, if I even make it through potions,' Harry added, feeling slightly destitute at the thought of what life with Professor Snape would now be like. In all likeliness, he'd be given so much detention he'd never see the light of day.

Ron made a sympathetic expression. 'You never know, maybe the ministry will accept relevant work experience. I mean, come on, you've had more contact with Voldemort in five years at Hogwarts than most of the idiots the ministry employs as Aurors will ever have in their life!'

Harry smiled, despite himself. 'Not if the way the ministry's been acting recently is anything to go by. Though to be fair, most people who come into contact with Voldemort unintentionally just end up dead anyway.'

'Well, precisely, even more reason to employ you.'

'So, what did happen to your clothes?' Hermione pointed out again, probing for detail.

'Well, you know... it all gets at bit physical and stuff, we were practising for hours.'

'Harry, Occlumency is a mental pursuit...'

'You got physical with Snape. You realise how that sounds, right?' Ron was almost laughing, a huge grin already in place. 'This is classic.'

'No! It wasn't like that, it was just...' Harry gave up. There was no way around this. 'Look. Snape's not going to be teaching me anymore.'

Hermione's face turned to thunder. 'What! Why not? He can't do that, he has to!'

Ron snickered again. 'Was the relationship moving too fast?'

'Shut up, Ron. And no, Hermione, he doesn't haveto teach me. He thinks I'm a lost cause, he basically said as much.'

'You've got to tell Dumbledore,' she cut in, but Harry shook his head, resolute.

'I don't think Dumbledore would give me the time of day at the moment, you've seen how he's ignored me the whole year. He's never around when I need him anymore. Besides, it's my fault anyway, I attacked Snape first.'

Harry decided Hermione looked more like he'd just slapped her than anounced he'd attacked a teacher. It took her a moment to find words to express her outrage. 'Harry! How could you be so stupid?'

'It was just a shielding spell, but it backfired on him. I saw all this stuff from his childhood. It was really weird.'

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her for a moment. 'Like what?' She asked reluctantly, her anger subsiding.

'Well, he was bullied at school and stuff,' said Harry, feeling ashamed at how he had to skirt around the subject to protect his dad. 'And he was in love.'

'Oh my God, that's disgusting!' Ron made puking motions to emphasise. Hermione wasn't sidetracked so easily.

'Who was it?'

'Erm...' Harry stalled. He should really think up excuses for the bits in the story he didn't want to mention before he started telling it. 'Just some student, I don't know.'

'Harry...' Hermione's 'don't-mess-with-me' voice was quite perfected after years dealing with the two other boys.

'Look guys, I'm completely knackered. Thanks for waiting up, but I think I'm going to head up to bed. I still have an essay to finish in the morning, so I've got to get up even earlier anyway…' By the time he'd finished excusing himself he was at the foot of the stairs and heading out of sight.

'Go have a shower first!' He heard Hermione call up, and waved vaguely at her in acknowledgement from the top walkway as he opened the door to the boy's dorm.

'He won't shower,' clarified Ron proudly, as though a man's right to be unclean was honourable. In disgust, Hermione gathered the three books she'd had open on the floor and went to bed as well.

As Harry took off his outer clothes, he squatted by his trunk and lifted out the framed photo of his parents together. His dad's smile and their 'togetherness' seemed a mockery in Harry's eyes. He was torn between a feeling of betrayal and the ludicrousness of it all. He put the photo back, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach just as Ron walked in.

'Nice view!' Harry looked down realising his boxers were admittedly a bit tight in the squatting position, even though Ron's bedside light was the only one still on. Harry quickly murmured an apology and got into bed.

The soft and sometimes loud sleeping noises of the others seemed to fill the room as Harry lay staring blankly into the dark. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help trying to imagine what it would have been like. His dad, at around the same age Harry was now, with a lanky, long-haired teenage Snape.

Harry shuddered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Severus could not help but scowl down at the thin pile of essays in front of him. The few so far marked and overturned had been adequate and unremarkable, and then there was Potter's. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

If possible, it now appeared that Potter was _trying_ not to try, if it was in fact possible to be so useless. He wasn't even writing entirely about the correct topic. Amongst the drabble, rare flecks of aptitude showed through, plainly reaking of Granger.

The boy's inclination for trouble appeared to at least serve in enhancing his brain function, judging by the remarkable escapes he'd performed throughout his interactions with the Dark Lord. Some severe tactics might jolt the boy into line, although so far, comprehensive intimidation within and outside the classroom had appeared to achieve little more than greater levels of intractability. It would appear that this was especially so after their last lesson together, barely one day had passed and _this_ was what Potter considered to be assessment standard work.

In annoyance, Severus wondered vaguely whether Potter was trying to blackmail him over their meeting. Or maybe since it had occurred, any vague remnants of concentration had now gone altogether.

'Give me strength,' he muttered, rubbing his forehead in vexation.

And he was doing it again. When had the most perfunctory task of the morning marking turned into another opportunity to dwell over the issue of _that_ boy?

He picked up the red self-inking quill again, and wrote briskly at the top of the parchment sheet:

_Unsatisfactory. Reading the question would generally assist in writing the essay. Excellent input Granger, as usual._

He felt he should do something more severe to reprimand this persistent case of homework fraud. The work had not been directly copied, but rephrased carefully enough in relation to the rest of the nonsense he'd written to let Severus know Harry had not been alone in this latest scam.

Detention was somewhat implicit from this sort of work. Or was that what the boy actually wanted? Another chance to talk over his ridiculous theory? Potter had seemed rather adamant that he did not want a clarification, let alone an explanation. Mostly out of a stubborn righteousness Severus had since resolved not to give one. More importantly however, mind games aside, after very serious deliberation he had decided that the truth in this case was a stone better left unturned.

Snape admitted to himself that no one should be lead to believe something so fundamentally disturbing about a parent. But the timing could be more important than might first have met the eye. Perhaps after his place within both Hogwarts and this war was over, Harry could know the truth. Or an amended version of it.

The matter of primary importance in this was that Harry did not get too close. There was no doubt in his mind that the Dark Lord would have a means of uncovering any such connection, and it would serve for nothing but placing them at risk. Snape's position as a double agent would fall catastrophically, if not fatally, into question should he find himself in a position of shared confidence and then fail to manipulate Harry through it. Snape knew that Voldemort never disclosed the entirety of his plans at any time, but Severus had his own suspicions of course. Things had even progressed to such a level that should the Dark Lord learn of any connection between himself and the boy, he could order Snape to march Harry down to the Department of Mysteries outright himself.

So far there had been nothing required of him that he could not realistically fulfil or excuse himself from. A friendship, even an understanding between himself and prime target number one would be unlikely to stand that test. Even if the Dark Lord could be convinced of the usefulness of it, that very argument would then backfire on Harry as Voldemort used it for his own ends.

This decision firmly made, Snape composed himself to the other issue at hand, besides the homework.

If Potter should break his word on mentioning what he'd seen the night before last, as Snape logically anticipated, it was unlikely that anyone of importance would believe his misconstrued version. No great harm could come of it apart from classroom snickers. Nothing a handful of well placed detentions wouldn't straighten out.

Everyone concerned at the time of Snape's studency believed rightly that he had hated James. And despite the other's demise, his endless resentment remained. Not for the schoolboy harassment, Severus had seen clearly through the loutish antics of a teenaged James.

His anger was a grief for taking Lily away. If it hadn't been for Potter senior, she would have been his. If it hadn't been for James, Lily would still be alive, and Harry – or whatever Harry might have been – would be his now.

This train of thought had brought him up short many times before. The foremost question in his mind was always what he would do if Harry were his son now. Well, what could he directly do anyway; Black had all holds over the boy from his status of godfather. Something enacted yet again by James Potter.

Why hadn't Lily asked _him_? Harry could have had two godfathers on the technical front. Not that the position usually meant anything these days being largely a redundant custom, but nonetheless. She'd known he would have crawled through glass for her.

He knew the reason of course. Death eaters were simply not family candidates for anyone except other death eaters. But if she had, Severus knew without doubt that he would have found a way to use his position, or that failing – his skills, to protect Harry.

How many days was it since he'd last seen her face? His forehead creased in concentration as he pictured Lily, her hair running through his fingers. When he imagined her, it was closer than they'd ever been. But the looks they'd shared had spanned the distance all those years ago, and so had begun his one-sided love affair with her eyes.

It was easier not to think about her.

He could make love to those eyes.

Harry's eyes.

Severus looked down at Harry's handwriting, his eyes adjusting to the sudden shortness of distance.

That confused things. Standing rapidly for breakfast, he thought again about the earlier question. If Harry had been his son, and named nothing as unfortunate, Severus would have ensured he were in the strongest position possible. Nothing like the shroud of obscurity he knew the Headmaster had left the boy to drift in.

If Harry was truly to stand a chance of survival, Severus realised that he needed to play more than a passive role in the boy's life now, because as things stood – Harry didn't have a clue what was coming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

The day's class had been stiff. Three days since _that_ evening, and it was the last class of the term before Easter break. Not that it would mean a great deal to Harry and the others while they remained at Hogwarts, vainly attempting something like revision.

Harry sat one row away from the back of the class, having been waiting in the corridor to make sure he'd get the right seat, but not first through the door to ensure he wouldn't be alone.

As soon as Snape entered the lab for the last practical of the term, Harry felt the tension simmering gently between them. He had to keep looking around to check the intense glances weren't as obvious as they felt.

With a lordly air, Snape sat at his desk reading out the final essay grades, which would then drift over to each student as he finished with them. But as he got to Hermione, even the feint whispers accompanying grade excitement fell silent as he read out:

'Granger, D.'

'Dreadful?' Hermione stared with mouth wide open in shock, and Snape looked up at her, daring to question his marking.

'I'm sure it might have been higher, but seeing as you felt the need to share work with Potter, I thought you might also like to share his grades.'

Harry sank into his seat as she swung round to look at him. He hadn't told her about copying some of the essay she'd lent Ron to read. For his part, Ron had seen the degree to which Harry had set about plagiarising and thus had wisely chosen to attempt his own work on this occasion.

'As for you, Potter, if you intend to keep up this level of atrocity, save me the effort of marking your so called work and drop this O.W.L before you even take the exam.'

'Yeah? Maybe I'll just do that!' Harry found himself on his feet before he could consider what he was saying. Snape's eyebrows drew together slowly, mirrored by the contraction of his eyes. The lesson had only gone so far as returning work, and so with no work to pack up it took only a fraction of a moment for Harry to grab his bag and leave.

Snape shouted the boy's name as he reached the back of the classroom, but Harry pretended to be deaf as he bolted from the room, all cares for his essay long forgotten.

He sat alone in the common room, not entirely sure whether this meant he was still taking potions. He needed it if he hoped to still have a chance at his career aspirations, but Snape hardly needed any excuse to throw him out the class. And now, Harry had pretty much done the job for him.

Harry carefully licked the inside of his teeth, clenching his jaw in agitation. The sofa cradled him as he slumped across the back of it, despairing, seething.

Nearly an hour later, he glanced up as Hermione ran through the portrait.

'Harry!'

'What did he say?' The boy lent forward quickly, trying to read his friend's expression.

'Well, I think you're beyond lucky. He's given you detention.'

'He gave me... what?'

'This evening, seven o'clock detention.'

'Hermione, I left the class! You can't give someone detention for not taking your subject anymore! And how the heck can you give someone detention when they're not even _there?_ This is ridiculous.' Harry protested in vain. Hermione had a strained sort of look.

'He also said that if you didn't come tonight you would be in detention every day of the Easter holidays.' Harry flung himself back into the sofa again, sulking irritably.

'Why can't he just leave me alone?' Harry snarled under his breath. 'Why does he have to be so _excessive_ all the time.'

'You've got to tell someone, Harry.'

'Tell them what?' He said, looking tiredly at Ron.

'That Snape is trying to… corner you!'

'Ron, stop being absurd, he's a teacher!' Hermione dismissed with one hand.

Harry looked between the two of them; evidently the topic of the other night had not been laid to rest.

'I'm not being absurd; he was clearly trying to wind Harry up! First he did the thing with your grades –'

'I won't both to ask for an explanation,' Hermione dismissed as Harry opened his mouth to apologise.

'Yeah well, I think it was just blatant,' Ron finished to himself as his two friends shared an incomprehensible look.

'What's blatant?' asked Harry wearily, standing up as he decided it might be prudent to talk to Sirius before everything became a lot more complicated, if it wasn't irreparable already.

'You know.'

'No I don't know, Ron.' The ginger haired boy shifted uneasily as Hermione made a sharp noise, and he looked at the floor.

'What the bloody hell is going on!' Harry suddenly shouted, entirely lacking the patience for this bizarre interchange of information. He vaguely realised that he seemed to be getting angrier almost every day.

Finally, when no one seemed about to break the stony silence, the portrait swung out again and more students began returning from their final lesson of the term.

Hermione lent in towards Harry quickly, and he turned his head aside to listen as she hissed towards his shoulder. 'The other night, the way you looked when you got back. The way you talked. The looks you were sharing today. We know there's more than you're letting on, Harry.' She leant back, but he could barely turn his head to look at her.

'Look, Harry, just go let him say whatever he intends to say –'

'And do whatever he intends to do…'

'Ron, shut up!' Hermione growled at him. 'You're not helping at all!'

Harry despaired quietly to himself. 'You think... he's in love with _me_?' He hissed back at them in horror.

'I thought that was what you were trying to tell us? You said it was a student.'

'No! _Hermione_! When he was a kid, yeah? Please.'

'Oh.'

'And for your information, it was my dad.'

'Oh!'

'And now I have detention, great. It just gets better. I can't believe I'm going to have to go and listen to Snape's shagging exploits with my dad. This is just too disgusting.'

As Seamus came through the portrait, he bounded over and collided with Harry as he landed on the sofa, clapping him across the shoulders.

'Oh my God! That was brilliant, if only you'd seen his face!' Although Harry couldn't help grinning boyishly, Hermione stared at him, unmoving.

'If only,' she repeated, and turned towards the staircase. Ron remained behind, smiling sympathetically as he joined in the boys huddle around the everlasting fire for late afternoon, carefully avoiding the recent discovery. For his part, Harry made snappy comments about their favourite person to hate, something that suddenly didn't come too hard anymore. Although he dreaded what was to come, the relief at not having to carry the burden of shame for his father had been lifted. When they went for dinner, the quiet companionship the other two showed was a great comfort. In all things, Harry knew the reliability of their friendship would lend him strength.


	5. Chapter 5

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Ron and Hermione followed Harry's slow, trudging progress, turning another corner as they headed down into the gloom of the dungeon stairway.

They hadn't discussed the issue at all since earlier as Hermione had said there were too many people around for the three of them to talk, and then it'd been dinner time. Yet Harry knew they had both been whispering together enough times in the last few days that she apparently thought it was acceptable for _two_ people to have a private discussion without being overheard.

'It must be really hard for you.' Ron said suddenly.

Harry almost looked over his shoulder, but managed to keep his eyes on the stone steps. His surprise at Ron's unexpected bout of empathy was short lived however as the other continued:

'I would've slogged him one if he'd made that stuff up about my dad!' And then Harry did stop. They all half collided as he turned, glaring up at his friends. So this was the secret conclusion they'd reached?

'I don't think he's making it up, Ron! I thought you understood – I _felt_ what he felt. How could he make up feelings from his past, that's ridiculous.'

Hermione pushed Ron aside slightly as she shunted them both forward. 'No, this whole thing's ridiculous! He's obviously winding you up, Harry. Your parents were inseparable, everyone knows that!'

'But he said ...' Harry paused, unable to quite explain. What had Snape said? 'He told me my mum knew. That I hadn't the courage to tell people the truth about my dad!'

'Are you sure you're reading this right, Harry?'

'Yes! Why are you bothering to come with me if you don't even believe what I'm saying?'

Hermione pursed her lips as she stepped past the others in a silent acceptance. Ron and Harry shared an obscure look before following her down.

'If you need us –'

'Look guys, I appreciate the support, I really do. But it'll be fine, it's just detention.'

'You know he's going to milk it this time, he'll probably make you beg to carry on Potions.' Ron voiced Harry's own dread of what was coming. He didn't know where any such humility would come from when he was so angry at Snape. But he had to do Potions somehow. Knowing now that his mum had been that good, he felt sure he was capable of so much better.

'Who knows?' Harry said wearily. 'I'll see you back at the common room later on, I'd better hurry.' Hermione stopped abruptly at his words, having said they would come and wait outside in case Harry and Snape clashed again. But Harry gave them a weak smile as he turned and descended the last few feet alone. Ron pulled on her robes to start back up the stairs again in a heavy trudge.

Harry came up against the dungeon door and rapped it briskly, listening for the potion master's admittance. When no call came from within he knocked again, harder this time, but there was no reply.

He looked back uncertainly, wondering whether he should wait, leave or enter. In the end, he pushed the door in slowly, peering around. Experiments within the room stirred quietly in the background, but that was the only sign of life from within.

Harry stepped in, shifting across the room as he took in the familiar surroundings in the absence of other pupils or the lab's dictator. One glass flagon stood open on the bench with a red, viscous looking interior. Every few seconds the contents would bulge, giving off a puff of smoke whilst emitting a quiet sigh, a bit like girls did when they daydreamed in class, Harry thought. As he leaned closer, the potion gasped and held its breath.

'Sorry,' he said hastily, moving back. The potion sighed wistfully again.

'Curiosity killed the… child.' Harry spun around as Snape stepped silently from the side door.

_More like Dark Lords and corrupt potion masters_, Harry thought bitterly, surprised that he'd managed to keep the comment internal. He caught a brief glimpse of a stairway lit by a bracketed fire before the door swung shut.

_Better to get the grovelling out the way first_, Harry thought. 'I'm sorry about earlier,' he said automatically, the words sounding notably devoid of conviction. Severus walked towards him, though he did not get too close Harry noted in relief.

'Which part would that be exactly, Potter? The attack, the accusations, the appalling homework or the tantrum?' His voice was sharp like the edge of a glass fragment.

Harry gritted his teeth. 'All of it.'

As Severus went forwards intending to move the sighing potion, Harry backed away to keep an equal distance between them. Snape frowned, but carried out the task as if he hadn't noticed. He knew he'd been overtly forceful on their last encounter alone together.

'Come with me,' he said suddenly, striding away without warning with confidence that Harry would follow, which he did. Harry skipped several steps as he bounded to keep up with the taller man.

'Where are –'

'Don't talk. Just watch,' Snape cut in, and Harry trailed after him as the left the dungeons and made as though they were heading to Hagrid's hut, or perhaps the Owlery. Once outside however, Severus continued exactly straight, cutting into the forest. Harry's hopes for a stress-free detention sank. The sun was setting, and the sky was a gradient of orange to deep mauve as it darkened rapidly around them.

_He could be taking me to Voldemort_, Harry thought suddenly and froze where he stood, perhaps 200 yards into the forest already. The trees were beginning to grow tighter together by this point, and although Snape appeared not to notice Harry had stopped, he growled the boy's surname at him without even pausing to look back.

'How can I trust you?' Harry returned into the darkness, his voice sounding feeble and childish.

'There's no need for trust, just come here,' came a distant reply.

Harry glanced around then stepped carefully forward over the forest debris. His wand jutted forward like a sword as he moved through the groaning forest. As the trees leant towards him slightly, they caught his clothes with the tips of twigs and branches. A bramble twisted against his right ankle and nearly tripped him up. He pulled the leg free with a jerk and stumbled on.

Anyone could be ahead of him now. Voldemort could be just standing there, waiting to take his next crack at him. Why had he followed a known enemy into the forest? What the hell was he thinking? Harry felt sweat seeping into his clothes as he breathed faster. He couldn't help himself, he had to know whatever it was Snape wanted to show him. Besides, how could he ever face Snape again if he ran away now?

'You won't need that,' Severus said from where he stood expectantly, without his wand even in hand. Harry looked down at his quickly, but did not put it away.

'Where are we?'

'You should have memorised the journey. The question is therefore _what _not where.'

They looked at each other for a moment before Harry sighed and asked: 'Fine, so _what _is this then?'

'Dumbledore gave me permission to erect an Exclusivity Gap on this very spot.'

Another pause. Harry had the impression that Snape was drawing satisfaction from his own _exclusivity knowledge_, let alone any gap, although the truth was far from this presumption. Severus waited to see how quickly Harry caught on.

_If Dumbledore had really ordered this then something about this place had to be different to the rest of Hogwarts. So what could you do here that you couldn't do anywhere else? _Harry wondered. _The only thing that covered the whole of Hogwarts was..._

'You've made a gap in the defences,' he stated in a horrified realisation, and Severus smirked ever so slightly.

'This is the only place in Hogwarts where a person can apparate from or to.' Snape paused, letting the information sink in. Harry glanced at the surroundings, taking them in properly for the first time. They were in fact within a small clearing, but it appeared as though vegetation preferred not to grow there rather than having been kept at bay by force.

Harry looked up at the other man, whose face seemed shrouded in shadow from the dwindling light, made more sinister under the canopy of the forest. Suddenly the idea came to Harry that he'd been brought here for a darker purpose after all. Snape could just grab him and apparate off to the Dark Lord, or Voldemort could show up any second now.

Harry's heart began to race again, his skin prickling with adrenaline. He had to warn everyone, they could be attacked at any time! But as the word 'Stupefy' was about to leave his mouth, the older man continued as if such things hadn't even crossed his mind.

'If the Dark Lord ever comes here –'

'It'll be _your_ fault!'

'I meant in the _convential_ _methods_, Potter. Don't interrupt me. As I was saying, if the Dark Lord comes to Hogwarts –'

'He wouldn't dare!' Harry shouted, his anxiety lending unnecessary volume to his voice. 'Dumbledore would –'

'_Dumbledore_ may not always be here to protect Hogwarts. Or you.'

Harry stared at Snape even harder, shocked. 'Why? What's going to happen?' he asked suspiciously.

'Despite considerable intelligence, Dumbledore has been known to have flaws in judgement,' Snape returned.

_Like with you_, thought Harry scathingly. 'He will always win against Voldemort.'

'Let us hope so. But the reason you now have this knowledge is for the purpose of escape, not entry.' Snape regarded Harry gravely, then walked away.

'Why are you telling me this?' Harry shouted, insulted this time. 'Even if Voldemort came I wouldn't leave!'

'It's not for you,' Snape snapped bitterly. 'No more innocent people will die at his hands than we can help.'

'So what's the point of having it for escape if Voldemort could just show up at this... this Gap, any time then?'

'Don't be dense, Potter. I am Secret Keeper for the exact use of this precise spot. Only Dumbledore, myself, and now you, know of it. Subsequently, it would be for the best if Dumbledore does not learn of your new knowledge, either.'

As they headed back to the castle, a fine mist drizzled over Hogwarts. It was as good as dark now the sun had long set. Harry immersed himself in the business of walking, too conflicted from what he'd heard to make sense of it. What was to stop Snape telling Voldemort anyway? And why shouldn't he talk to Dumbledore about it seeing as they both knew?

Severus finally produced his wand, flicking it sharply as they reached the front entrance. One door alone swung ponderously open enough to permit them both through. The crack closed just as Harry slipped through and he glanced behind him as the locks began to slide into place for the night. Severus moved purposely towards the dungeons.

Harry paused, uncertain whether to follow. 'Can I go now, Professor?' he asked hopefully. The time it had taken walking back and forth from the forest had made it much later than he'd expected to stay.

'Did I say your detention had finished?' Snape queried smoothly as he looked back from the top of the stone stairway.

Harry stared at the floor, closing his eyes as he dwelled briefly on his own tiredness, then stepped towards the dungeons once more. Snape stood by as he approached, allowing him to walk in front as though not trusting the boy to come of his own accord.

Above them, Hermione stood up again from where she had crouched against the stone banister, peering over the edge as Harry was swallowed up in shadow of the spiralling dungeon stairs. At the last moment he glanced up at her, before the stairs overhead blocked his view. He frowned, wondering what she was up to, but Severus shunted him on as he slowed down.

'Stop dawdling,' he snapped irritably. 'I haven't got all night.'

Harry suspected Snape was probably lying.


	6. Chapter 6

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

'We shouldn't have left him there.'

They'd mediated around the common room, then to the library, then back to the common room. Ron followed out of boredom and anxiety. He looked over at Hermione, scribbling furiously on her revision notes and cleared his throat.

'The exams are less than seven weeks away, Ron.'

'We said we'd wait for him.'

'And what if we were seen? We don't need detentions on top of revision!'

Ron breathed heavily in an aggravated fashion, supposing Harry's brush-off earlier had offended Hermione quite a bit. He also suspected the 'D' in Potions had got to her more than she let on. It would probably be a very long time before she helped them with homework again. Perhaps by the time next year's exams came around the resentment would have softened...

'When's our last DA meeting this term?' Ron asked casually, straining to make conversation.

'Look at your galleon.'

Ron made another noise to indicate the effort it would take to go and find it, and Hermione looked up annoyed. 'It's tomorrow, Ronald. Sometimes I wonder how you remember to even wake up in the morning.' She turned the parchment over and continued writing out the practise essay.

Ron knew exactly when the meeting was, but had hoped to draw her out of the revision reverie long enough to have a decent exchange. He gave up, staring moodily at the ceiling.

Harry wasn't himself at all, he hadn't been for a very long time. After all those episodes he had a few weeks back, and when they thought Harry was being possessed by Voldemort...

Ron had never been so scared for his friend than when they'd heard that, apart from the collapses. Every time they had happened, Ron worried this would be it - the moment Voldemort broke through and took over Harry. The day Ron would lose his friend to this indefinable evil. And he, helpless except to hope he woke Harry in time.

'Harry had better not get detention for then too,' Hermione snapped slightly, and Ron jumped.

'Oh, DA. Yeah, it'll be fine. Don't worry,' he replied vaguely. 'Look, do you think we should go back and –'

'Leave it Ron! For the millionth time, Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape, and we should too! Perhaps Harry has finally convinced him to teach Occlumency again. There's nothing more important than –'

'_Harry learning Occlumency_, yeah yeah. We've only heard that a million times as well.'

'Well then.' Hermione sat looking at her essay for a while, but wrote nothing more. 'Let's go to bed, it's getting really late.'

'He's been gone hours,' Ron muttered, looking at his watch. They looked at each other for a long moment. 'The whole situation is fishy. This whole thing about Snape and Harry's dad...'

'I've told you both already, it's ridiculous. You know what Harry's like with Professor Snape, he always assumes the worst.'

'But he said that he felt it, he can't be imagining _that,_ can he?'

'He's not himself these days,' Hermione replied quietly, mimicking Ron's own thoughts.

'Doesn't mean he's imagining it though. Come on, if no one had believed Harry about Dad's attack he'd be dead!'

'But that was Harry's link to Voldemort, Ron! It's completely different from what Harry did when he saw Snape's memories.'

They sat in silence for a while, both disagreeing but uncertain how else to argue the point. Hermione's calm rationality agitated Ron's now passionate belief in Harry's judgement to the extent where he would rather just ignore the points she came up with, no matter how sensible they seemed.

'Let's go to bed then,' he said, standing rather too willingly. They packed up wordlessly from the common room tables and both started up the steps to their dorms.

Ron waited a few seconds to make sure it was deserted before he crept back again, leaving his bag on the steps as he came.

Hermione reached the bottom of her steps at the same time as he did, making a small noise of surprise as they caught sight of each other.

'What did you come back down for?' Ron asked first.

'I forgot something,' Hermione said quietly. 'You?'

'I'm going to wait for Harry,' Ron replied plainly, not bothering to lie.

'Oh.' Hermione looked up slowly. 'Me too.'

'Well. Come on then.' Ron sighed to himself at the pointless charade, before they both met once more in the middle of the common room on their way to the portrait.

'You should be in bed...' The Fat Lady heckled sleepily behind them as they left.

'Prefects!' Hermione called back, by way of explanation. As they hurried down the grand staircase she kept holding her breath for long periods of time for fear of being caught.

The main entrance doors creaked, and at the last moment Ron pulled her out of sight behind the curving banister. She just caught sight of Harry being marched down below as he disappeared from sight, and lent quickly over the edge to watch him go.

'That's not right at all.' Ron muttered beside her, and she looked at his uncertain expression as they gazed at one other steadily.

'What do we do?' She whispered.

* * *

'Sit,' Severus said briskly as he gathered ingredients and apparatus from the room's generous collection, before laying them precisely upon the work bench in the middle of the lab.

Harry's spirits fell as he realised there was little hope of getting much sleep at this rate. He wondered vaguely what exactly he was going to be made to practice, and whether he had any hope of making it to satisfaction when he was already so tired.

Harry watched Severus draw his wand and flick it sharply, but instead of instructions appearing on the board as Harry expected, Snape merely lit a fire beneath the cauldron and continued by himself. With turns of his hands and wrists that were more methodical than gracious, he began adding ingredients.

Harry could not make out a great deal with Snape's body in the way of the creation. Not that Harry expected he would have known what it was even if he could have seen, but the mystery made the suspense more sinister. He perched nervously on the edge of a seat at the back of the room, wondering whether he was about to be forced to consume some unknown concoction.

Time passed slowly, and Harry felt his eyes growing heavier by the moment. Just as he lent his head back against the wall, Snape barked at him and he jumped in the chair, rising to his feet without conscious thought to face the man now standing before him.

'Your mother invented this.'

Harry stared with dazed blankness still preoccupying his mind at the flasked potion in Snape's hand. Least of all he understood that Snape was referring to his mother.

'Was my mum really that good at potions?'

'Exceptional,' Severus replied without hesitation.

'Better than you were?'

Severus paused, and looked at him levelly. 'We were equal.'

'I want to be like that,' Harry confided quietly. 'I'm fed up of being rubbish in all my classes and scraping through every lesson of potions and transfiguration and... well, everything except Defence. The only things I know how to do are fight and fly.'

'That's because you're a tool.'

'What?'

'Do you not see what Dumbledore has been doing with you all along?' Harry stared blankly at the older man, shocked by the sudden directness that Severus now addressed him with. That was exactly how he felt – more specifically like Dumbledore's metal detector, except he came ready tuned for the Dark Lord. In truth it was easier to put his feelings down to anger at Dumbledore's year-long neglect than admit the man viewed him as a disposable weapon.

'He's protecting me.' Harry stated flatly.

Snape raised his eyebrows and remained silent. Harry recognised the tell-tale traits of doubt the older man was trying to sow in his mind, and resolved to make sure he felt the opposite just because of it.

In actuality, Severus realised that trying to make the boy see a picture bigger than the frame of his mind could encompass at this point would be a waste of time.

'Become a man worthy of Lily's son, don't become your father,' he replied carefully, but Harry didn't answer for a while. He ground his teeth instead, seething with anger.

'What would you use to hurt someone you really, really hated? What was that cutting spell you used on my dad?'

For a moment, Severus intended not to answer, sensing the hatred in Harry's tone. He knew Harry wouldn't dare use it against him, and that was not why he hesitated. Finally though, he remembered his intentions to equip the boy better, it might do Harry more good to know such a spell than not, in the end.

'That was _Sectumsempra_.'

'I've never heard of it.'

'Of course you haven't, I invented it.'

'For my dad?'

'Possibly.'

'What does it -'

'Enough.' Harry fell silent instantly. He had yet to overcome his surprise at how easily the potions master disclosed information to him these days. Severus lowered the potion he held, somewhat forgotten, and regarded Harry frankly. They stood a few paces apart, and Severus took in the angular slightness of the boy. His perpetually haunted expression, the nervousness and uncertainty with which he moved. Not that he himself was an epitome of oneness, but he recognised similar signs within the boy that he'd had at several stages in his younger life.

'Tell me, Potter, do you consider death?' Murmured the man in his low, trenched tones.

Harry frowned slightly, unprepared for the question. 'All the time,' he admitted, but with a wary tone.

'And what do you do about it?'

'What do you mean?'

'Give me a straight answer.'

'I don't understand, Professor.'

'Do you hurt yourself intentionally?'

Harry looked at him without breathing for a few seconds, before he started up in shock.

'What? That's crazy... who does that?' Severus moved away, closing his eyes in relief.

But the idea, so inconceivably sinister at first, would twist around Harry's heart in its innocence and in his youth, it seduced him. Not a solution, but still an answer he had perhaps sought without realising.

'I mean, there's no choice about it, or death or anything is there? This just has to be done and over with.' Harry felt unnerved at the sudden lack of conviction in his words. Snape nodded in reply, and then remembering what he had altogether intended by this meeting, went to place the potion in Harry's hand. Curiosity in his mothers invention forgotten, Harry stepped back instinctively. So immediate was the reaction that Severus had barely moved at all. They stared at each other in uneasy regard; Harry's body aligned side on as though he anticipated a duel, unnerved by the turn of conversation.

Severus knew the comment about the spell and the boy's parents, or more particularly his father, flummoxed Harry entirely because of his earlier mis-preconception. Being a generally incapable dolt within the classroom, it was no surprise that Potter had latched onto the entirely wrong end of the stick. What's more, he now appeared to believe that Severus was uncontrollably attracted to him, based on the notion of an old, nonexistent affair between himself and Potter senior. Harry really gave himself too much credit.

Forestalling his earlier intentions, Snape looked to the side as he placed the potion down. As he opened his mouth to speak again, Harry did something unexpected.

Jaw set and eyes narrowed, he stepped closer.

Severus raised an eyebrow, but the boy did not back away, standing just an edge too close.

It felt like a dare. The boy was testing the waters, an inch at a time, feigning calmness and self-assurance, however badly.

In the back of Snape's mind, he cautioned himself. Harry clearly had no practice at this, but that didn't make the temptation any less provoking. Snape looked down into the youthfulness of Harry's eyes and attempted to remember that Harry was baiting him.

Unless it wasn't a ploy?

The closeness seemed to be chasing his rationality away. What else could really give a boy like Potter enough confidence to approach the situation in this way? Maybe it was just curiosity. Should he oblige and in doing so, permanently dissuade Harry from attempting anything so reckless again?

Snape grudgingly moved back to maintain his own comfort levels, and Harry's position seemed to grow stronger. As he stood more confident, the room behind dissolved into a blur of shadows and reflected glass while they stared into each other's eyes. But Severus saw the mother, not the son. And there was the temptation again.

This was ridiculous. He wanted to father Harry, not fuck him. Snape tried to keep the fatherly idea foremost in his mind, which was workable when he wasn't looking into those eyes.

The moment invariably seemed much longer than it really was considering that no words had passed between them. But the very fact that consideration was going into a response had Harry chilled to the bone. Nonetheless, he had chosen to come here, and in the end it was all about determination. Snape would never act on this in a million years. The corner of Snape's mouth moved in a smirk.

Harry looked away and walked past the older man, trying quickly to both conserve and diffuse the situation. Now it looked as though he was doing the advances! He'd had enough of how their meetings kept ending up, and the endless paternal bashing was getting on his nerves. But perhaps acting on impulse and expecting Snape to back down and get off his case wasn't the smartest move. He hadn't counted on the plan backfiring.


	7. Chapter 7 : M rated

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 7 (M rated)**

* * *

For the short time that Harry was aware of them, he never fully understood why the events of that evening occurred, which in many ways was probably a blessing.

He was not adept at manipulating games of the mind, where Snape lived by them more as a matter of survival.

For his part, it was unlikely Severus understood the reasoning behind what happened either. Yet with considerably more knowledge and power to hand, it was perhaps just too easy for him.

Harry felt weak. His resources of the last year had been poured into staving off both conscious attacks and unwitting side effects from Lord Voldemort. Harry knew in his heart he didn't have the strength for this battle before it had even begun.

Severus now represented an anomaly to the younger man. A sworn enemy in his eyes, that had begun to take him into confidence, and had been the first – however approximate – to really acknowledge the way Dumbledore had treated him, although he hated to admit it.

Harry wasn't quite sure what he thought about this new behaviour. Something like intuition, though not as strong, told Harry not to trust the older man; that whatever he appeared to do for good was done only to a darker end. But the truth of his instinct, the one thing he believed he could rely on, accepted this new outlook.

But these thoughts were secondary to the embarrassment from his failed attempt to gain control of the situation, and as humiliation overcame him, Harry felt exhaustively passive.

The exchange was like two sides of a coin; watching the boy lose focus and conviction, Severus put his thoughts into motion and once more took the lead.

'Follow me,' he suggested for the second time that evening in a wry tone, and led them through the brass plated door at the side of the lab. To Harry's unvoiced, internal horror, it appeared the bluff was being called after all.

They passed under the candle bracket he'd seen earlier from the open door, but it was soley preoccupied with illuminating each of the dark, uneven steps down. Harry felt no warmth from it as they passed.

The dark passage wound down a set of stairs even narrower than those leading into the dungeons, and Harry touched both sides at once easily as he followed the edge of Snape's robes as it lingered momentarily on each step. The air was cold rather than damp, and stale so that Harry decided it was like descending into a crypt, not that he had ever done this in his life. More than once in that short journey he pushed aside the thought that things were going too far. Severus wondered only if Harry followed him out of naivety or nosiness. Probably both, he surmised.

They emerged out into an averagely sized room, as remote to observe as the stairway had been. It was carefully devoid of portraits. Harry only had a moment to wonder why they were in sleeping quarters before Severus turned back sharply.

'Don't get close to me, Potter. It might just kill you.' They were about an arm's length apart. Harry glanced aside self-consciously, his forehead creasing as he took a slow, steadying breath, unsure how to interpret this. Was Snape warning him about the dark mark? Could it actually kill someone?

He wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he wasn't stupid either. The most important thing was whether this was a warning, or a threat. Harry shifted on the spot, subtly feeling the side of his trousers where the wand sat deep in his pocket. The coldness had quickly penetrated the mangy old jumper he wore and his arm hairs stood on end. His nose was numb. Harry looked at the lack of furniture, and the humble bureau against one wall. When there was nothing else to look at, the stalemate got the better of him.

'What are you waiting for?' Harry demanded, breaking the calm. Severus reached out with disturbingly premeditated speed, his right hand closed tight on Harry's throat. The manner was more symbolic of authority than threatening. Harry felt himself lose control from it, potentially what was had been intended, he realised moments later.

The coldness of the hand chilled the surrounding skin, the grip was paralysing. Magic was obviously being employed but knowing it was there did not mean Harry could repel it, because despite intention to break the hold, urgency drifted from his thoughts and he couldn't move away. Was it because Snape had been the first to teach him mental resistance and knew exactly how Harry had developed his defences in the first place?

With just one hand in direct contact to the boy as he held him, Severus overcame all natural and magical barriers with little effort. He suggested thoughts without the direct use of a wand at all. Harry's mouth was slightly ajar; not quite accepting what he was imagining yet believing the thoughts to be his own. When he finally found words, they came out vague and lacked assertion.

'Professor. I should be – getting back to –'

'No need, Potter. Simply be honest about what you want.'

'I ... don't want to be afraid,' Harry almost whispered, surprising himself seeing as he hadn't been thinking anything in the first place.

'Understandable.' Severus almost smiled, knowing the spell had worked. 'Would you like my help?' He didn't really need to ask. They both seemed aware of what would happen next.

The bed looked sorry for itself, a single put up pushed tight against the wall. The grey blanket on the top made it all the more bleak. Harry numbly took this in as Severus pushed him towards it, reaching around to adjust his belt, unfastening the button and zip as though the boy's self-function was redundant. Harry lent back slightly as this occurred, testing the sensation of leaning his weight towards the taller man while his trousers fell bunched around his ankles. If Harry had considered his own lack of emotion at what was happening, it might have indicated he was not himself. But he didn't.

Mindless of this now, whether blinded by need or lust, Severus adjusted his own clothes and without warning pushed Harry forward in a purposeful manner. Under the force of this and combined with the restriction of his trousers, the boy fell straight forward onto his knees facing the bed. Scowling slightly, Severus pulled him up further to lie across the edge of it so that Harry was forced to support himself in the strange, exposed position. He glanced back when nothing else happened.

'Professor –'

'Be quiet.' The last thing Snape wanted was to hear Potter's voice while he thought of Lily. He felt the outline of Harry's back through his red jumper. The darkness of the hair just covering Harry's neck as he bent forward was out of place with the fantasy. It wasn't right, Severus repeated to himself, sullied by his own desire. When he closed his eyes it was almost her, but almost wasn't enough.

'This isn't a good idea.' Severus muttered, finding reason amongst the emotions ruling his head.

'I'm not a child. Don't treat me like one.'

Severus smirked slightly, thinking that sixteen really wasn't much of an adult either. But if that was how he felt, so be it.

Harry looked down at the bed between his hands, breathing steadily faster as sweat lined his skin. The one thing he felt clearly was the unsteady hammer of his heart reverberating in the blood inside his ears. He hated that sound.

Harry felt himself pull away from the intrusion only by instinct, but there was nowhere to move to. As he lent into the bed, Severus dropped his weight even further and Harry shouted in surprise, every muscle was tense, flooded with adrenaline. The pain was awkward and sharp, like _Crucio_ when Voldemort had tortured him last year, but nowhere near as bad. Harry bit a chunk of the coarse blanket with all the strength in his jaw.

The sensation became indescribable. It wasn't violent, but he didn't think there was much enjoyment from either side. Snape had his arms behind Harry's, arrow straight on the bed holding them both upright, pinning Harry to the spot. At some point Harry's glasses had fallen off in front of him. Occasionally the wall grazed his forehead.

Time seemed to both rush by and stand still all at once. But as Severus became more focused on his objective, his concentration on the persuasion spell began to slide and with a jolt, Harry was suddenly aware of himself. It took a few moments to grasp what was fully happening, he could barely breathe. In confusion and also helplessness he thought he might cry, but tears didn't come. Although his arms were trembling, Harry pushed back against the full grown weight behind him suddenly with all his might.

'What are you doing?' he yelled, but Severus grabbed his arms out from beneath them so that Harry collapsed forward.

'Get off me!' he shouted, grabbing the bedding as he tried to move. The steady rhythm with which he was violated enraged him with powerless hatred. His calves began to cramp at the awkward angle, so instead he thought about the sensation of the hands holding him down, clasping his shoulder and right arm. Severus intent upon his own efforts then stood and dragged Harry from the bed to stand upright against the wall of Hogwarts, pinning him there by the wrists.

For that solitary instant he was glad that his parents were not alive. Even more so when he realised in surprise he had started responding to the manhandling. It was therefore a blessing that everything seemed to finish quite suddenly. Snape pulled him back hard and finally made a snarl somewhere between anger and relief against his neck. Mortified, Harry was speechless.

Without the support of the other man, Harry's knees folded beneath him as soon as Severus released his grip, and he sank against the wall beside the bed.

'I'm sorry,' Severus stated without emotion, retreating a short distance. He lent on the back of a chair, head hung low in exhaustion, or shame.

'I've got to go,' Harry whispered hoarsely, but Snape shook his head in mild irritation.

'Stop running away, Potter. The best thing you can do is use my bathroom,' he said, pointing to a door at one end of the room and looking up at the insubstantial figure huddled on the floor.

'And then what?' Harry pointed out dryly.

'Then I'll obliviate your memory of this.'

Feeling the bed for his glasses, Harry pulled himself and his trousers up with shaking hands. A warm sensation ran down the back of his legs.

The past thirty minutes had already wrought a change in him. Considering himself properly, Harry realised that the fear which had weighed upon him expectantly until this point, was gone. He didn't exactly feel happy about circumstances, but the innocent, hopeless character he'd cut up until that point had fundamentally altered. If he went to his death now, it would be as a man.

Ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of his boxers, Harry adjusted his footing and filled his chest as he walked to the base of the stairway. 'Don't you dare interfere with my mind!' This was a matter he was very adamant about. Reading it was one thing, but tampering was just unacceptable.

'One way or another, you cannot keep this memory.' Snape stood, reluctant to make a move to enforce the point, despite knowing it must be done. If Dumbledore or Voldemort learnt of it... he couldn't tell which would be the worst outcome.

Harry was ready for this. He just wanted the reason to fight now. Dumbledore's Army had not been practising all term for nothing - his body knew the movements of the wrist faster than he could think incantations to match. He would not give in lightly!

But as Harry grabbed for his wand, it was gone. He looked down quickly, caught off guard. It had fallen out of his pocket when he'd been... they'd... from earlier. Snape had followed his line of thought and crossed the short distance to where it lay before Harry had even realised where it was. Severus bent down with a careful eye on Harry who watched with a somber expression. As the potion's master closed the tips of his fingers around the handle however, he felt a faint vibration in the wood, and noticed Harry shiver suddenly as though he had placed his hand around the boy's own heart.

They shared a prolonged silence, calmness after the storm, but as Severus took out his own wand, Harry turned quickly back up the stairway. He knew Snape would follow. There was desperation in his thoughts as he stalled for time. What could he possibly say to convince the other man to leave him alone? The conviction in the older man's voice already told Harry that anything he did would be futile.

When he reached the potions lab on his way back to the castle, a tide of anger had already stirred up through his torso, and he screamed in frustration as he scraped the best part of a bench onto the floor. The sound of crashing glass rippled around him as equipment and potions in various stages of development fell, oozing and hissing together on the floor.

Snape was only a matter of paces from the doorway into his laboratory when heard the noise, rather feeling that Potter was perhaps justified in his anger. The mess would be far from reparable by charm by the time the contents of the equipment had mixed.

Harry turned slowly to confront his professor, breathing even faster - Severus noted - than when his virginity had been taken moments before. Severus refused to dwell on such thoughts, hating how forced the whole thing had felt. With compassion in his heart, Severus realised the one thing he now wanted most was to look into Harry's eyes this time... and perhaps see more than his mother in them. Maybe this fantasy was based on more than desire after all?

And with a deep regret, Snape also realised the sudden closeness after a lifetime of isolation was already too appealing to allow himself the temptation any more.

'I am truly sorry.'

'Pleased don't do it. I'll do anything, I swear! I won't tell anybody...'

'That isn't what this is about.'

'Then what _is_ it about?' Harry shouted back in desperation, and suddenly realised there was probably only one line of action he could take to preserve his own memory. 'Did you love my dad that much you had to trick me into bed with you? Or do you love _me_?'

'Harry -'

'ANSWER ME!'

'Harry!' A deep banging reveberated on the potions door and startled them both. As Harry recognised Hermione's voice the deepest sense of gratitude and relief flooded through him; they had waited after all!

But a motion from behind drew back his attention as Severus raised his arm a final time. Harry looked down the length of the wand aligned to his forehead.

'NO! I _want_ to keep this! You don't understand -'

As Snape murmured the spell, the door burst open under Hermione's own incantation and Harry screamed; collapsing to the floor as a sensation of emptiness drummed through his mind, tearing away the knowledge of that evening as though it was ripping back his skin. He sought to grasp those memories with a power he had never known before, but resistance was agony; it was Occlumency and Voldemort and _Crucio_ combined.

Harry had no sense of what was happening around him, he felt the stone floor cold under his hands and face as he cried out in fury.

Then Harry realised he was simply crying, without knowing why.


	8. Chapter 8

Please note: Conversation edited in part 2 of chapter 6 ***

* * *

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Harry's breathing slowed as Ron pulled him from the ground as Harry struggled to find strength in his legs to stand.

'What happened?' He asked quietly, aware of everyone talking at him or about him while his mind swum, cut free of understanding. Hermione had tears on her cheeks, and Ron's face next to him looked as scared as Harry felt.

He turned suddenly to look at Snape, stood slightly apart now that Harry's friends had created a barrier. They shared a look, behind which Harry felt more weight than he could understand. Severus looked frozen, what was everyone else frightened for? _He_ was the one who couldn't even remember what time it was.

'What did you do to him?!' Ron shouted without restraint or respect and Snape looked at the boy furiously.

'It was Voldemort.' Harry said suddenly, louder now he had a sense of clarity that made sense of the situation. 'He's starting to take over.' Nobody replied, and Harry stepped back from them all.

'It's not safe anymore. _I'm_ not safe.' He searched quickly for his wand, intending to surrender it before he was used to kill someone, but it wasn't there. He looked up and Severus raised his left hand to show 14 inches of Holly and Phoenix feather that Harry would never hold again.

'We'll take you to the hospital wing,' Hermione said quickly, and Harry looked at her as if from another dimension.

'Aren't you listening to what I said?'

'Of course I am, Harry! You have to go-'

'Voldemort has started taking over my body! I'm not strong enough to fight him! It's over.' Harry turned away from Hermione, unable to bear the weight of her emotions on top of his own.

Hardly knowing what to say, Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder to show support, but Severus walked forwards, brushing Ron aside.

'The Dark Lord succeeded in nothing, Potter. I prevented him from utilising the connection by -'

'But what about next time?! I can't go through school locked up down here with you on the off chance you might stop Voldemort again if he tried to... oh forget it.'

He walked quickly to the door, ignoring the protests and took the stairs two at a time.

'Stop him!' Snape shouted, and Harry heard Ron running up behind him by the heaviness of the footfalls. Hermione called his name from somewhere near the base of the stairs.

As Harry emerged from the dungeon stairway, he both saw and remembered the front doors had been locked. The last thing he could remember was following Snape down into the dungeons for a second time, talking about a spell... and something about a potion. Obviously that was when Voldemort had chosen his moment to strike.

Harry didn't stop running, merely continuing up towards his dormitory. Another thought of dread filled him now, driving his actions. Had Voldemort watched everything Harry had seen that evening? Did he now know about the defence gap in the forest?

He tore up the grand staircase, and Ron caught sight of him finally.

'Harry stop! Wait up!'

Harry ran all the harder, thanking whatever pitiful ounce of luck he had that the stairs didn't work against him this time. He shouted the password, and fairly pulled open the portrait as she swung out too slowly.

'So rude!' The Fat Lady shouted after him.

Once in his room, Harry upended his trunk, pulled out his cloak and the marauder's map – before realising he had no wand to use it with.

'I solemnly swear I am up to no good,' he repeated the familiar words in desperation wondering whether some latent magic within his body could bring it to work. The plain surface was all that greeted him, and Harry's heart sank. He had not even realised he was crying.

'Harry, what's wrong?' Neville asked quietly, sitting up in bed. Harry looked at him, and then around as he heard his name called from the common room. Harry threw his cloak on, and took the map anyway because if he didn't use it then the others would to find him.

With a cold clarity and calm that were anything besides what Harry felt, he waited at the top of the stairway for Ron to ascend. As his friend started to question to others, Harry slipped quietly down.

Hermione stood right in front of the portrait, guarding his escape. He almost smiled, she knew him too well.

'He's not there!' Ron shouted, running back down the stairs. Harry stepped against the wall and willed himself to breathe quiet, even breaths. This would be a waiting game then.

'Harry!' Hermione pleaded, looking around at the floor, no doubt for a sign of his feet if he moved too fast. 'You don't have to do this, we'll help you! Dumbledore won't let anything happen, we have to go and talk to him. You heard Professor Snape, he stopped _you-know-who_ this time, he can do it again.'

After a minutes silence, they began to sweep the room with arms wide, calling to him, but it just allowed Harry to get right next to the door. He half mouthed, half whispered the password as Hermione finished her sentence, and stepped aside as it swung out again.

'No!' Ron shouted, running straight through with Hermione in tow, arms still outstretched as they sought to trap him, and Harry watched as they began to realise the impossibility of the task, giving up halfway down the first staircase. It was not difficult to slip past them.

He wouldn't go to Dumbledore; Snape had said Harry mustn't talk to the Headmaster about the gap in the forest, and Harry now trusted that Severus had his reasons. So where could he go? Harry thought briefly about breaking a window to get out, but he didn't think the castle's security would allow it.

Eventually, Harry found himself hunched at the bottom of the staircase in the Entrance Hall, staring at the front door.

Invisible and wandless.

He wondered whether Voldemort was gathering his forces and preparing to infiltrate them at that very moment, if he hadn't already done so?

Harry sat that way, fingers locked over his face as the dawn approached. Light dissipated through the higher windows where diamonds of glass were separated by lead glazing bars. His clothes were damp and even burnt through in places where he had come back to himself lying in a mixture of potions earlier.

Although it seemed hard to believe, when the doors opened in a matter of hours he would leave Hogwarts for the last time. At the start of the day, his biggest concern had been revision for their OWL's. It seemed a lifetime away now. He would have to go away; it was the only way to protect everyone else from whatever Voldemort was going to try and use him to do. If he disappeared, perhaps locked himself in somewhere, no one would get to him, or the other way round. He couldn't do anything, or be anyone.

The whole wizarding world expected Harry to be the chance in a million solution to their problem, they expected a teenage boy to stop the most powerful dark wizard ever known in history. Voldemort probably performed magic more complex than Harry might ever master just scratching his arse or something, Harry thought bitterly to himself.

Time drew by slowly, and in exhaustion Harry felt himself starting to drift off. The third time he startled awake from a noise close by, only to find nothing there when he looked about wildly. Harry realised he'd have to find somewhere else to wait out the morning. At this rate, a teacher was either going to trip over him or find a pair of legs sticking out of mid air when his cloak slipped.

Harry rose stiffly, the cold of the stone having chilled his backside, which itself ached in a strange way too. This was another thing he'd not had time to think about earlier, putting it all down to where the ruined potions had soaked into his trousers. Parts of these had stained strange colours, or melted away against his skin, but this sensation was somehow different. Harry hesitated, then reached behind into his waistband. The uncomfortable dampness had more origin there than Harry could scarcely believe or contemplate. He snatched his hand back, staring down at traces of blood around the nails.

'This is not good,' Harry whispered to himself, blinking rapidly as he took in the details and searched for a solution. Only one seemed feasible, but he wasn't ready for that. For God's sake, he'd just made the decision that his life was about to go on permanent hold... he didn't need... whatever _this_ meant, on top of that. Briefly, Harry closed his eyes. At the back of his mind there was a dream, seemingly from several days ago, yet he recalled it with the clarity of a memory. The wall scraping against his knees, hands much stronger holding onto his wrists when Harry had no strength to hold himself up...

Dropping the Marauder's Map, he bent quickly, pulling his right trouser leg up to the knee to examine it first hand. Within seconds, the blood had drained from his head, and Harry sat once more. Breathing deeply, he stared at the floor of the entrance hall without emotion, hands clenched and thoughts carefully empty.

It didn't matter now anyway. It changed nothing.

Or maybe it did. Perhaps, this had nothing to do with Voldemort after all.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 9**

* * *

On the whole, Severus Snape was in shock.

He had stood rigidly for some time, using careful gestures of magic to clear the floor potion by potion. The one of Lily's that he'd spent most of the night making remained undisturbed on the bench closest to the back of the room where Harry had fallen asleep watching. Severus still intended to make Harry use it, and if this could be planned carefully, the potion could be one of the most powerful weapons Harry would have in his arsenal. Using two of the rarest ingredients he owned, it would be worth more times its weight in galleons than could be measured.

Aside from that, Severus refused to think too far ahead. The shame was more severe than any humiliation in his life, surpassed only by the guilt that now grew alongside it, because he'd failed her.

He'd failed them both.

Not for the third time, Severus resisted the urge to go charging through the castle. Coming to grips with rationality, he'd reasoned there were only a few likely scenarios. If Harry didn't want to be found, he doubted there was much point in trying. If the two other children had got hold of him, they would probably go to Dumbledore. But if Potter were actually as scared of himself as he'd let on earlier, he would either disappear in a bout of romantic heroism or return back here to the Dungeons for protection. Severus had his wand, where else could he go?

The main concern the man now faced was not when he would see Harry, but how effective the memory modification had actually been. He was without doubt that Harry had performed wandless magic at the end of the spell, a cross between a fairly complex shield and Occlumency. Ironic that Potter had finally grasped the fundamentals of repelling an attack only when Severus had most needed him not to. Either way, this meant that he couldn't be sure the _Obliviate_ spell had sealed properly, which would in turn lead to all manner of complications, the most worrying of which was Harry's mental state.

When the rest of the trio had barged in, Severus had used the distraction to perform a basic cleaning charm on Harry as he collapsed to the potion-laced floor, and with luck this should have cleared anything _incriminating_. There hadn't been time to carry out modifications to any physical discomfort.

'And he thought he was possessed...' Snape shook his head slightly in bemusement. This was the second time Harry's assumptions had fallen completely wide of the mark. But as the Slytherin in him heartlessly reminded, it was a good story and it would prevent him from being implicated in something sinister. Not that he didn't deserve it if he were, Severus thought bitterly.

Despite all this, one fact stood stark against the backdrop of his thoughts. Regardless of what had happened, that he'd lost control and could have seriously hurt the boy, Harry had _wanted_ to keep the memory.

Severus felt his sight obscure with long redundant emotions. The floor superficially cleared, he retreated slowly to his dormitory below. Carefully taking a seat behind the bureau, he placed their two wands together on the desk. The silver cast handle and deep-set runes woven across the handle of his own contrasted to the coarse yet smooth warmth of Harry's wand, one and a half inches shorter.

Severus stared silently at it, a foreign object against the familiar backdrop. Loss of control was an alien feeling and one he did not suffer gladly. There was relief in calm and rational thoughts, but he had none now.

Many ideas presented themselves to him in succession. Perhaps modifying his own memory would be the best course of action for them both? The only problem then came if _Obliviate_ had not worked, as he would not be able to fix any recurrent problems in the boy. Maybe he was even now worrying over nothing, and Harry would be none the wiser about his earlier degradation. Or perhaps he really would disappear and leave Hogwarts.

Severus stood up, and then sat down again.

'What have I done?' He asked the room, and then the wand before him twitched and he looked down as it slowly turned around to face him on the table. For the briefest instant he thought it was going to perform magic without anyone directing it, although he knew this was ridiculous. When nothing further happened, he pushed it away, unsettled.

Suddenly the wand sparked yellow and Snape leapt up from his seat, grabbing his own wand and automatically pointing it at the other, however daft it appeared. Wands could not just perform magic of their own volition. It had to be coming from Harry, but Severus had never known anyone be so connected with their wand that it would physically react in their absence. Either that, or Harry's power had begun to grow significantly beyond what he or the Headmaster had first believed of the boy.

* * *

Harry descended the dungeons warily. Without his wand, he was incapable of premeditated magic so posed no threat. But he had to know, had it all been a dream and was this Voldemort's way of breaking him down piece by piece? Or had Voldemort controlled Snape too? Had any part of this nightmare been real?

He'd read about it occasionally before of course, about rape and that sort of thing, in the paper when he managed to get them out from the recycling bin at the Durseley's. He'd just not thought about it properly before. He remembered an article of a women talking about how dirty she had felt, about continuously showering and raw skin and rage.

But that wasn't what it was really about, Harry thought to himself as he moved through the potions lab and on down towards the personal quarters, without wondering how he knew where he was going. It was all about lack of control.

Severus was standing with his wand drawn against Harry's own wand, somewhat bizarrely as Harry came down the last steps and emerged into the light of the room.

'Potter, where have you been?'

'Professor, I need your help. I need to know – am I going mad?'

'I don't think so, no.'

'Then did it really happen?'

Severus stopped short, adrenaline inundating his thoughts. 'What?'

Harry studied him with a shrewder gaze than he'd ever known of a fifteen year old boy. 'So, that's a yes then.' Harry sighed and locked his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He paced in a slow circle.

Severus watched for a brief instant before intervening. 'Look at me,' he commanded, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder to face his body forwards. But even as their gazes met and held, Severus found there was nothing there that he could read. The emptiness alarmed him; after all, the only other from whom he could read _nothing_ was Voldemort himself.

'You can't do that to me anymore. You don't have that power over me.'

'You felt that?'

'Yeah, I felt you try.'

'How? You couldn't even perform Occlumency before and now...'

'Well, I was rather hoping you would have the answer to that, _Professor_. I mean, at least you _have_ the memory of what happened!' Harry glared at him from a lowered expression. Harry could read that Severus was lying now, his eyes gave him away.

'I don't know what you think is going on, Potter. Perhaps your brain is more addled than we thought.'

'No thanks to you, _Sir_.' Harry hissed viciously.

Severus paused a moment then, before Harry could even move, cast the spell again.

'_Obliviate_!'

'No!' Harry started forward in shock, his hands upraised to cover his face as though this would shield him. Yet the wandless boy of 15 stood there as one of the most powerful memory modification charms known moved over him harmlessly, as though it was nothing but air.

Severus felt hollow and sick, and turned away. He leant conspicuously on the corner of the desk, and then he smiled. Although Harry knew, what was of far more consequence was that Severus had unleashed so great a power within the boy the Dark Lord himself would struggle to torture him now.

It also meant that he had no way of hiding what had happened between them now. He was unsure what he felt about that.

'Do you know what this means, Potter?'

Harry was still taking stock of himself. Having anticipated another harrowing, he was obviously just as equally surprised. 'What... What happened?'

'Nothing.'

'Oh. Err, why... not?' Harry did not think he was entirely comfortable with someone who had just attempted to steal his mind again, but as no harm had technically come of it perhaps that made it acceptable, in a way, to permit conversation.

'So... Was that Occlumency then?'

Severus Snape stared at the young man, unsure exactly how to answer. Should he tell him that Occlumency itself was not enough to shield a person from the Obliviate spell?

He smiled, and held out Harry's wand once more. 'I believe you have made progress, Mr. Potter.'

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Improper Disclosure**

**Chapter 10**

* * *

'I don't want to go back, Professor.'

'If you don't return tonight, there'll be a castle-wide search.'

'Tell Dumbledore I'm here, then he'll know. Just say I'm safe.'

'It's not that simple, there'll be questions. This isn't in character, let alone appropriate.'

Harry reached out and rested his hand halfway between them on the old sofa, the best he could manage to breach the distance now. Severus turned his head away in profile, looking down at the futile glass of wine. Somehow, he was losing his control of the situation. His emotions had shattered their barriers and it was all he could do not to show it. Each time he looked at Harry, the same expression. Save me.

'All right.' He exchanged the glass to his left hand and produced his wand. With a considered motion, a single bed materialised like a flower opening under motion capture in the opposite corner. Severus added a bedside table and a thick pillar candle encased with a half-moon vase, before two thin walls rose up and created a separate room. A door popped into existence and slowly opened inwards, offering Harry the chance of privacy within.

Severus regarded the creation and Harry's reaction, then glanced over at his own furnishings. They looked cold and poor in comparison, and the memory of what had happened there earlier haunted him. He motioned a few times with the wand, altering the bed so that it stretched in both directions, became wood instead of steel and carvings began to etch into it leaving an ornate effect in their wake. Wide, heavily-patterned carpets dropped across the floor around them with a loud 'slap', and Severus more than tripled the number of candle brackets so that a warm glow of light flooded the previously barren room.

Harry turned his head upwards to look at him, the hint of a smile warmed the professor's heart to see. It felt good to take care of someone else for a change, he'd rarely ever had the opportunity.

'What was it like?' Harry spoke suddenly, breaking his concentration. 'When we – you know...'

'You should get some rest,' Severus said, standing to gather the front panels of his robes as he went towards the stairs. The words came out more strained than they'd been intended. Harry replayed them as he watched the older man leave in silence, that only served to highlight his absence afterwards. Harry swallowed against the dryness of his tongue, with a sense of being alien in his own skin. He'd intended to ask the professor if he would stay for a while, but was glad to have kept his nerve and not sounded completely desperate.

After a few moments, Harry took the initiative and walked through to his new bed, laying down facing the wall. He felt tired, exhausted really.

It seemed strange in this small, square room. Harry considered that he'd slept in worse places. On impulse, he reached out to touch the castle and as his fingertips made contact with the stone, he noticed Dumbledore wasn't there anymore. He knew vaguely that he shouldn't be able to read such a thing from a wall, that it wasn't normal. Something strange had happened to him, but it was beyond his understanding at this point.

It was already in the early hours of the morning. When he woke again it was to the weight of a cover dragged up over him, but he didn't stir. The bed tilted slightly as Severus sat next to his back, a hand rested on his shoulder.

Harry twisted on the spot to look up at the potions master, who did not seem surprised.

'What are you doing?' He asked.

Severus placed his own wand in Harry's limp hand, a gesture of peace, as he brought them both to his chest tenderly. He didn't know what he wanted from Harry. He didn't even know what was on offer, exactly.

'I won't play this game anymore.' Severus hesitated, and reached to take Harry's other hand, grasping them tightly. 'Please, give me a chance.'

'I will, but I want to know what you did to me.'

'I see.' Severus released Harry's hands, turning away slightly, humiliated at the thought of discussing it.

'Not like... details or anything. I mean, I can kind of tell, obviously. I mean about the magic. There's no way I would have just, done something like that. I'm not really confident with that sort of thing, you know, I don't have – experience...'

'I didn't use the Imperius Curse, Harry. I would never use that to force someone to –'

'No! I didn't think you did! Mad-Eye... Crouch junior taught me to resist it in fourth year, so I know what that feels like. Even _You-Know-Who_ tried.'

'I used a spell of persuasion. It wouldn't work if an intention or desire did not exist already. It helps to... encourage action. And suppress fear. When you told me you didn't want to be afraid, that spell came to mind.'

'I said that?'

'You did.'

'Dumbledore's gone. I felt it through the walls.' Harry said quickly, consciously choosing to ignore the issue between them this time. Severus' expression deepened into disapproval.

'Professor Umbridge has instated herself. It was only a matter of time.' A chair assembled into being as Severus withdrew across the small room. Harry felt the absence acutely.

'You should go to breakfast soon, your absence will be more noticeable this morning in light of what has transpired with the Headmaster.'

'I can't face them just yet.'

'Just get it over with, there will be more than enough distraction with the change of directorship,' Severus stood in an expectant manner that made Harry's presence suddenly seem intrusive. 'You'll have to at some point so there's no reason to delay returning.'

The stalemate dragged on only for a few seconds. Harry unfolded from the bed and straightened his clothes as he left quickly, having little else to say.

Severus regretted his tone, his intolerance of sensitivity. He needed to find a way to improve his patience. They were both victims of their own insecurity. It would be difficult to lower the charade between them that seemed inevitable from their positions.

* * *

The sound of the portrait opening shocked Ron awake from the light doze he had drifted into on watch. It took a few seconds for Harry to enter and prepare himself, removing the cloak slowly, eyes fixed about the floor until they met Ron, slumped on the sofa, his eyes puffed and dark. Ron didn't sit up, or make any suggestion towards the next course of action.

He was angry, Harry realised as he read the train of Ron's thought. 'I'm sorry.'

Ron's expression didn't alter outwardly, but Harry sensed the softening. Apologies were usually difficult between them, but Harry had no energy left to care about pride now.

'I shouldn't have overreacted. I wasn't thinking straight.' He tried again.

'It's OK. I know you hate the whole possessing thing.' Harry sat near him on the sofa, torn between impulses.

Hermione had woken beside them as Harry sat down, and startled upright staring at him. 'Harry! I thought you weren't coming back!'

'Neither did I.' Harry could feel the sense of her heart as its beat fluttered quickly less than half a metre away. It seemed attractive, in a feminine way. Ron's heart was far stronger, louder. Harry shook his head a bit, struggling to bring this new, entirely unfamiliar awareness under control.

'I need to deal with these things myself.'

'Mmm, because that always gets you far,' Hermione smiled despite herself. 'What's that, Harry?'

He glanced at his own hand, surprised to find the small potion there that Severus had spent the night making without any recollection of having picked it up as he left the dungeons.

'It's... an assignment. For Easter.'

Harry was such a poor liar that Hermione wished he'd just told her to mind her own business.

'Why would Snape give him an assignment at a time like this?' She asked Ron out loud, looking towards the stairs long after Harry had left. Ron stared at the guttered fire grate in a trance. 'Something's not right,' she emphasised unnecessarily and he grunted in reply.


End file.
